


Aeviternal

by Mockingbird_Blue



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4990072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingbird_Blue/pseuds/Mockingbird_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean hates fairytales. But what happens when a friendly stranger Marco Bodt comes riding into his life and sweeps him off of his feet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This isn’t a fairytale. There is no misfortuned young woman. There is no Prince that takes her away from all that, that shows her fortune because of a single moment’s attraction. This is just Jean Kirstein’s story. This is me.

 I’m a textbook eighteen year-old. I dropped out of school last year and have been working in this shithole full-time ever since. I mean, I started coming here when I was about seven, and started working here at around twelve. I shovel horse crap for a living. You can bet that my Mum’s fucken proud.

My shovel crunches, scrapes and sloshes the earth beneath my feet. As I push forward on the handle, bits and pieces of mud, hay and crap falls off the sides of the spade; I’ll grab them next time. June better fucking love me for this; I take better care of her room than I do my own. I actually think she craps all over the fucking stable just to spite me, what a horse. But I can’t say much, because I force her to do shit all the time so we’re even. I look up and give her a greasy anyway, and she fucking snorts back. Sassed by a pony, ouch.

 When the floor of her bedroom no longer bears any signs of horse apples, I round the wheelbarrow through the door and over to the collection of the same substance. I used to gag when I went near this pile of shit, but I think I've come to terms with it - it does resemble my life in most - probably all aspects. I stop and judge the aroma coming from the mound. I can’t smell it anymore. It’s just become the norm.

 Through the thick fog surrounding my head, I still manage to make out the drumming of a grumpy voice barking my name somewhere behind me. Reality slowly drowns me once again and I succumb to its sour taste with a rumble of profanities.

 “Hurry your ass, Jean! June ain't gonna ready herself!” Eren growls, flicking part of his brown mop from his eyes with a swivel of his head. One of his hands resting on his hip and the other leading a horse a lot bigger than June - It isn't exactly hard to be taller than June; she’s a midget.

 “I got plenty of time, Jaeger. No need to be on my ass about it.” I practically snarl back in his face. He looks as if he’s about to drop Carla’s lead and come gimme a fist in the face, but he doesn't budge.

 “Well shit, Jean, sorry for tryna help. Don’t blame me when old man Shadis’ got your balls!”

 He walks away.

 Everybody walks away. No asking why I’m angry or hesitant. No shits given.

 Walking back to June’s stable, I’m passed by other workers. Mikasa and Artemis, Armin and Pan, Ymir and Persephone, Krista and Aphrodite, and Connie, Sasha and chaos. Mikasa and Armin are smiling and talking on their way to the arena, Ymir has Krista around the waist as they walk behind them. All is normal. It’s the same as every Saturday. As I approach June’s stable, I see her watching me. Creepy little sausage of a horse. If only I didn’t have a soft spot for you.

 “Come on then, midget.” I chuckle, ruffling her jet mane and walking over to where I had previously laid the saddle. Barely lifting it off the fence, I somehow manage to chuck it on June’s waiting back, the blanket underneath peeking out and baring a beautiful red. I make a clicking noise with my tongue to tell her we’re moving. She follows with no further instruction.

 Walking into the stadium, I see the usual six to eight year old girls dressed in their bright pink gumboots and jackets waiting for the last of the horses to be brought in. Today seems to be a busy day for us, it must be the start of the school holidays. Each little girl is barely listening to the instructor, Petra. Rather, they’re all marvelling at the horses. I walk June to her designated spot and stand in wait for the instructor to finish.

 “Well I think those are the basics,” She says, clapping her hands together. “Now I’ll assign you each a horse.”

 Petra reads out each little girl’s name followed by a horse’s. A girl named Jillian goes to Aphrodite, Tiffany goes to Pan, Erin to Persephone, and Charlii to Artemis. Looks like Carla and June are left out this round. June is usually left out; she’s the only pony. She's a Shetland, so of course she's kinda on the short side. Her head comes up to my chest, though so she's on the tall side of the short side, I guess. I give her a reassuring nudge and go to lead her away, when the front door to the stadium creaks open nervously. A head pops in through the crack, and two smaller ones follow.

 “Come on, guys.” The man says. Well, not so much a man as a guy my age. They slowly walk over to Petra, well aware of the fact that a lot of us are watching them. The guy is quite tall - taller than me. His black mop of hair parted in the middle, cut just above wide, hazel eyes focussing intently on Petra. He looks like a fucking idiot, all red in the face and not unlike a child who shat himself going to face his parents with the shame.

 “Sorry we’re late. We got caught up.” He whispers - or tries to. Petra turns and smiles at him.

 “That’s perfectly fine! May I have your name?”

 “Danielle and Chrissy.” one of the girls say, hiding behind black bangs.

 “And how old are you, girls?”

 “Just turned five.” They say in unison. Petra’s smile fades into a concerned frown. She turns her attention back to the freckled guy.

 “Five’s a bit young. We can’t let them ride unless they’re accompanied by an adult. Someone over sixteen.” The guy sighs and turns to look at the girls. His face visibly softens and then turns back to Petra.

 “I don’t have to ride, do I?” He finally breaths. Petra giggles.

 “Unfortunately you do. We won’t charge you, though. What’s your name?” His face goes red.

“Marco.”

 “Well then. I’m sure you’ll catch up to everyone else. Danielle, you can go over to Carla; she’s very kind, I’m sure you’ll get along. Chrissy, if you would please go to Chaos. And Marco... “Her face drops and she squints at all the horses with young girls brushing and clinging to them. Her eyes eventually settle on me and June about to leave and her features soften. Oh no. I quickly give her a shake of my head to tell her that ‘No. June is not going to have a grown man ride on her back, the fuck are you thinking?!” But she gives a little smile and turns back to the freckled guy - Marco.

 “If you’d please go over there to June. I’m sure Jean will take very good care of you.” She giggles, more to me than to Marco. I seem him visibly tense up.

 “Isn’t it a bit small for me?”

 “Well I doubt any of the girls are going to swap, sweetie.”

 “But if you could ju-”

 “Who would like to swap horses with Marco and go ride June?” Petra calls out.

 Marco gives a defeated huff and walks awkwardly over to us. ‘Poor June; she’s too fat to do this’ I muse to myself. I don’t see what I’m learning from taking on a grown man to teach horse riding to. Damnit, Petra.

 “Hello,” Marco squeaks. He bends down to meet June’s face “And to you.” His eyes fall back to the ground. This is ridiculous.

 “Well then, would you like to brush her like everybody else is, or would you prefer to get straight into it?” I chuck June’s reins over her head and turn back to face him. He meets my gaze and his eyes widen, features turning pink.

 “It’s very small.” He mumbles.

 “I know.”

 “And I’m very big.”

 “Yep.”

 “Are you sure it can hold me?” I smirk at his nervousness. Of course she’ll be able to handle it, she’ll be a little stubborn when we do trotting and galloping, but that's only because she's a lazy fuck.

 “Well I guess we’ll find out.” I shrug, as nonchalantly as I can. He stiffens further, and goes even redder. Heh, he’s fucking terrified. I’m loving this.

 “B-But what if it… Collapses or… S-Something?” He’s looking at June now with more concern on his face than Sasha when I accidently broke Connie’s wrist in three places. Concern? Or utter petrification? Can’t be too sure. But whatever it is, it’s funny.

 “Are you going to get on, or would you like to carry  _her_  around the stadium instead? I'm sure she'd love that.” I snort, probably a little bit too rough for this delicate petal. “Just grab both sides of the saddle - here and here - and swing your leg over.” He looks at the saddle for a bit and then almost looks like he’s going to move, but doesn’t.

 “Promise it won’t capsize?” He whines. A long but quiet grumble escapes my throat as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

 “No. But if you stop referring to her as an it, then maybe she’ll think about it.” He looks at me strangely - with an emotion I can’t quite place - and then walks around to the side of June. He reluctantly does what I said; placing his hands on the saddle first, his foot in the stirrup next and then heaves himself up. For a second I think ‘Oh shit, she might just capsize.’ But then he falls back down. I huff impatiently.

 

“How am I supposed to sit on it -  _Her_  - if her back barely reaches my abdomen?.”

"People  _race_  shetlands, I think you can handle it."  
  
"But I-"

“Your fucking five-year-old sisters are doing it.”

 “They’re gymnasts. I watch ‘the walking dead’ for a living.”

 “Well shit,” I say exasperatedly. Oh god, he better not be another of those fucking zombie nerds. As if I don’t get enough information about that shit from Connie fucking Springer. “Fine. You lift again and I’ll help you get your leg around.”

 He does as he’s told and I reach for his calf. I lift his leg just high enough that he can kick it over June's back, but lower it when I hear a yelp of protest. His leg was barely over a 90 degree angle.

"What happened?" I ask, glancing at his pained expression.

"N-Nothing... I'm just not very flexible." he smiles sheepishly. "Let's try it again." 

 “Y-You’re gonna have to slowly let your body weight down. I’m going to eventually have to take my hands away. I-I kinda need them.” I groan, his body weight basically squishing the words from my mouth.

 “R-Right.” He quickly lowers himself. Breathing an all-too-loud sigh of relief, I place his foot in the stirrup for him and walk around to clip her leash on.

 “Ever driven one of these?” I ask, inspecting my finger after getting it caught in the hook. That hurt.

 He shakes his head sheepishly. I explain the basics to him. I couldn’t tell if he was listening; the entire time, he was studying the back of June’s head.

“You play video games?” he looks surprised at the sudden off-topic addition to the lecture. He silently questions my intentions, but clearly comes to no good explanation.

 “Only Mario Kart and Pokémon Snap on my Nintendo 64.” he says, shamefaced. Is he serious? Do those even count as games? I was think more like Call Of Duty or something, but Mario kart? Pokémon Snap?

 “How old are you? Those are barely video games!” I cackle. He turns even redder. This guy is unbelievable.

 “That’s not fair! I happen to like those games!” I can tell he wants to cross his arms, but is terrified of making any movement.

 “Whatever. Just imagine kicking your leg is pressing the ‘A’ button and pulling each side of the reins is the left and right of the joystick. Got it?”

 “And how do I shoot the red shells?” He grins at me. The dork fucking grins. While entertaining, cute and attractive - no homo though - he’s sassing me.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking sass, Mr Marco.” I mumble, looking around and making sure that none of the little kids heard the profanity I oh-so-stealthily snuck in there. Thank God no one heard this time; it’s happened before, and I’ve managed to get $14 off of my pay check. In my defence, who the fuck has the time to count how many times I swear? (The answer is Petra Ral). “Just give it a go.” I ring the leash over June’s head and step away, gesturing for Marco to go.

 “What the heck are you doing?!” He gasps.  
  
“Letting you go.” I huff exasperatedly.

 “On my own?!”

 “Well yeah! You’re a grown man, off you go.”

 “I can’t! You have to hold the rope thingy and lead me!” Geez, he looks as if he’s going to have a fucking heart attack.

 “Scared, are we?” I grin at him.

 “Shut up.” He pouts. I do as he instructs, however. Probably only because I know that if I don’t, I’ll hear about how I’m the crappiest instructor in this place. That’s saying something, because I work with Connie.

 Marco and I flow in and out of conversation. I learn about his other sister back home, his parents, and even his weird-ass spider. He owns a fucking spider as a pet. Who owns a spider? No normal person. But something tells me that Marco isn’t normal, that he’s far from it. Nevertheless, I grumble a sour ‘I fucking hate spiders.’

He asks about my family, but I don’t say much; all I have is a mother, and I prefer not to talk about her too much. I don’t tell him about my Dad and how he died. No one needs to listen to my depressing-as-fuck sob story, especially not a complete stranger. Especially not someone like Marco. If he notices me avoiding the subject of my family, he doesn’t say anything. I’m grateful for that. 

The two and a half hours that Marco was riding June were really fun; I hadn’t enjoyed myself in this shithole for a really long time. Marco made it even better; he’d talk in the silences and laugh when there was conversation (as well as squeal like a fucking princess when Petra instructed everybody in trotting or galloping). It sounds cheesy as hell, but I really wished it would last forever.

 Petra tells everybody to say goodbye to their horses, and a disappointed hum fills the stadium. Things like ‘Already?’ or ‘But I don’t want to leave’ rumbling from each little girls’ mouth. In Marco’s case, it was an ‘oh thank goodness, my balls are killing me’ mumbled a bit too loudly, considering how red he goes when he notices I might have heard him. For his sake - and mine - I pretend not to have caught the comment.

 “Well, I guess that’s it.” I huff, trying to cover up my disappointment.

“I guess so.” He pulls his foot out of the stirrup and tries swinging it over. Tries and fails. “Could you... uh…”

 I nod, grabbing his calf (I managed this time, thank fuck) and swinging it over June’s ass. Once he reaches the ground, he almost loses his balance and nearly falls flat on his ass. I have to choke back a throaty chuckle.

 “Well thank you, Jean. I had lots of fun.” he smiles. Fuck Jean, don’t blush. Say something witty for fuck’s sake!

 “Yeah. Good. Well I should go.” Fuck you, Jean. Marco starts blushing at that point. Damnit, I shouldn’t trust myself with speaking English to human beings.

 “Oh, yeah. Of course. Goodbye, Jean.” Walking in the opposite direction, he breathes a quiet sigh that he doesn’t notice isn’t silent. A disappointed sigh? An exasperated sigh? It really wouldn’t surprise me. I feel really guilty, but what the heck am I supposed to do, but lead June in the opposite direction? No look is thrown behind me when I leave the stadium.

 

I did not see Marco again.

 

 

 


	2. Not again

Well, not until the following Saturday. I guess he got pinned with being the adult for his sisters again, poor guy. What sort of parents does he have, to stick him with the tiny people? Absolutely appalling. Then again, it could just be my hatred for anything under 5’5”, excluding animals.

 

Today he looks really sharp. I don’t mean that in a dorky way, I really don’t. He just looks… put-together. Not to the extent where he’s making a complete show of himself, but nice. The guy looks nice. But a lot of people look nice today, so I dunno exactly why I picked it out. Mikasa looks very nice today, so do the other girls… except Sash. You can tell she got up five minutes before she left the house this morning and did nothing to ready herself but get breakfast. I’m pretty sure those are the clothes she was wearing yesterday…

 

“Hey, Jean,” someone chirps in my ear. I swing around so fast that I basically lose my footing and fall on my ass. I absolutely fucking hate people sneaking up on me. Like… I would have gotten into a full-blown toss-up with them if I hadn’t realised who it was. The stupid buzzcut is looking down at me with a cocked eyebrow. The reason why I’m not currently patting his face with my knuckles at the moment is because Connie is kind of the closest thing I have to a friend at present; he talks to me and often asks me to join him in recreational activities such as a _‘The Walking Dead’_ marathon, to which I kindly declined, telling him that I would rather chew my own arm off than sit through him pissing himself whenever a zombie so much as groaned. _“What’s the point of watching it if you can’t stomach the gore?”_ I’d tell him. But he insisted that he wasn’t scared.

 

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ Connie! You scared the living shit out of me!” I squeak. Connie just sighs. “What d’ya want?”

 

“You were looking around like you just killed a man. Then you stopped on one spot and just kept staring - weren’t blinking or nothing. You alright, man?” He says. I scan his face for some part of him that’s judging me, but I find nothing; he looks generally concerned. Shit, it’s probably best not to tell him I was staring at his girlfriend’s stained shirt.   
  
‘Nah, I’m right, man. Thanks,” I say. It really shouldn’t be any surprise for his concern; he knows everything about me and my past. He knows the things about me that I don’t even talk to my mother about, and maybe even some things I don’t talk to myself about. Connie claps me on the shoulder.

“Good man. Now go get a drink; you look like you need one.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

I’ve been around horses for my entire life. Mum used to live on a farm and worked at a race track, but moved to the city to pursue her dream of being a coach. That’s actually how my parents met; Dad was also a coach and their horses were in a race together. With both my parents so into horse racing, I naturally became addicted to it as well, and my dream was to be a jockey; right in the middle of the action. At around twelve, I was the perfect height for a jockey and I was really excited, but with puberty came more growth-spurts and gaining of muscle. At fifteen, I had long surpassed the height and weight restrictions for a jockey and I became extremely self-conscious of my weight. I don’t feel fat or anything, just so fucking heavy and… big. That’s probably part of the reason I have this weird thing about eating now.

 

My mum’s fine with me not being able to be this kick-ass jockey, but I’m not. I’m really not. It’s alright to be able to forgive someone for not coming famous or whatever - especially if it’s your son - but it’s really hard to comprehend that your dreams need to be flushed down the drain because you’re too big. She doesn’t know about it

 

\------------------------------------------------------------

 

The same procedure is done with this group; Petra explains everything and then assigns girls and boys to horses. Petra sends Marco over to me again, even though Carla is available and much bigger. At least it’s him and not some tiny female; children are too young these days.

 

“Hi again, Jean,” he chirps. Normally people’s happiness comes across as rehearsed and obnoxious, but Marco’s happiness is almost like it belongs to me. I know that’s not true, but nevertheless, I enjoy it.

 

“Hey, Pokemon Snap,” I reply, the seeds of a grin attempting to pull their way onto my face. Marco snorts in response.

 

“It’s a good game, what can I say?” he chuckles.Marco walks over to June with little to no hesitation and carefully, but not quite nervously, pats the side of her face. “How are you, beautiful?”

June looks almost as stunned as I do at his treatment. He’s treating her like she’s a human baby. While quite cute and flattering for June, I’m sure, it’s a huge jump from the scared little shit that was here last week.

 

“Should I be jealous?” I say, trying to keep a straight face.

 

“Excuse me?” Marco turns back to me, confused.

 

“Oh come now, Bodt,” I tilt my head to the side, placing a hand on my cocked hip. “You’re fussin’ over her and I’m here looking pretty as all hell.” I tilt my head as I bat my eyelashes.

 

Marco raises his eyebrows. “Sass doesn’t look good on you, Jean.” he scoffs, returning his attention to June’s mane. There’s something about the way he laps up the vowel in my name that threatens to pull a smile on my features.

 

“Well hop up, everyone else’s started.” I chuckle, gesturing to the horses bearing little children that are circling around us. A few of the girls are looking at us and _judging_. Marco doesn’t seem to mind as he swivels his leg over June’s back and lowers himself onto her.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

I’ve never thought much about my sexaulity. I mean, not that there’s anything to think about. I haven’t fucked anybody but my left hand, so I really don’t know what the heck I’m attracted to. I could be a dendrophile and not know it, for Chrissake. I’d get down with whatever/whoever gets it up, honestly. So I guess that’s why I don’t question the fact that the giant dork riding the tiny Shetland is cute. I’ll admit it, Marco’s fine. Looking at the stupid, freckled, nervous but content person in front of me, I think it’s getting a little ahead of myself to even think about him.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

 

“Well you managed not to shit yourself this time. Well done.” I say, helping him off the horse. “But do you squeal like a three year old when you play mariokart?”

 

“Hey, don’t laugh at that. She was losing her balance!” He huffs, brushing the ride off of him. “Not my fault my first instinct was to _manly cry out_.”

 

“Men don’t surpass a C7 when they ‘manly cry out’, Bodt.” I chuckle, winding June’s lead around my hand. Marco simply scoffs as reply.

 

And cue the awkward silence. We both stand there as if we’ve never met. As if all the stuff we’ve been talking about for the past two and a half hours was never brought up and laughed over. As if we hadn’t bonded-

 

“Marcooooooooooooooooo~” one of Marco’s sisters cries out as she jumps into his arms, shortly followed by the other.   
  
“Hey there, Princesses! How was it? Have fun?”

 

“It was cool!”  
  


“Did you see us?”

 

“Yeah I did. You guys looked like professionals!” Marco replies, giving them another squeeze.  
  
“Come one Marco, let’s go get some lunch!” the left girl exclaims, pulling Marco towards the door. He allows himself to be pulled away by the two identical children, chucking a “Goodbye Jean” over his shoulder.

 

I nod my head in his direction and grab June’s lead, clicking my tongue to indicate our departure. I wonder if this Marco guy would be there next time...

  
  


As I hang June’s things up on the walls, I replay the session I had with Marco. Honestly, it wasn’t too bad. I didn’t despise the contact I had with him as I do with everybody else, and if it weren’t for the boredom I’m sure I bring with my presence I would have possibly ask if he would be there in the next week.   
  
“Jean!”

 

With a startled yelp, I turn around to see a puffing boy, clinging to the wall for support.

 

“Marco, what the heck? You scared the crap out of me!” I say, putting June’s rug and saddle over the gate. “What is it?”

 

He takes a moment to right himself and then lets out a big sigh. “Nothing.” he says, and goes to walk away. He can’t try that shit. I walk up to the doorway of the stable and lean against the frame.

 

“Snappy,” I call out to him, nonchalantly. He stops then, and turns his head slightly, acknowledging that I had called him. “Tell me what’s up.”

 

He turns fully around and stares at me, slightly amused and disgusted. “Snappy, Jean? You’re really losing your touch.”

 

“I’ll stick to that one then. Now, what’s up?” He shifts a little and grabs the hem of his shirt.

 

“I was just wondering… B-because you’re an ignorant bastard that has never played Pokemon Snap, you might let me show you how wrong you are.” he starts tugging on a loose fibre on his shirt.

 

“Wha-”

 

“At my house,” he interrupts.

 

“Lik-”

 

“On my Nintendo 64.”

 

“Marc-”

 

“Sometime this week.”

 

“Jesus _Christ_ Marco yes, I will. Calm down.” I chuckle through a sigh, then look at him once more, a smirk now replacing the confusion. “But I can’t say you’ll be able to.”

 

“Able to what?” He looks half panicked.

 

“Show me that I’m wrong. ‘Cause I’m not.” With a wink, I turn back to June and take her long plait into my hands, untying the elastic from the bottom. Slowly, as if to take as long as possible, I start unweaving the strands of hair.

 

“W-well good. I’ll text you probably. See ya, Jean.” I hum in response and eventually hear the crunching of stones under shoes fade away.

 

And then it returns.

 

But it’s not Marco I see when I spin around.

 

“Hay, man. How’s it hay-nging?” Connie says, strutting into the stable holding a large bale of hay high in the air as if to emphasize his pun. “Sash said for me to grab a bale for Chaos, so I thought I’d save you the trouble.”

 

“Thanks.” I offer, brushing June’s mane. He walks over to the rope and replaces the empty sack. He often grabs me stuff he thinks I’ll need, even if June does have mostly her own things. He never says much, which I’m greatful for because I never really want much more. But this time he stops just short of the door and turns back around to me.

 

“So that Marco guy seems pretty cool. A bit of a baby, but cool.” He folds his arms over his chest and tilts his head.

 

“Yeah, he’s interesting.”

 

“He looks like a bit of a pussy, I don’t think I’d have much in common with him. But he’s nice to you.”

 

“You sound like my mother. But Marco’s nice to everybody.” I shrug, discarding the brush onto the shelf. “And I think you’d like him. He likes that ‘The Walking Dead’ crap you like.”

 

Connie perks up at the mention. “Well he doesn’t like it the way you do, Jeanbo.”

  
He winks and spins around, heading for the loud shrieking of his name with a sour “Coming, Sash”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, he comes back. 
> 
> Also, thanks for the comments on the first chapter!   
> It's been a while since I uploaded the first one, because I write casually (it's a hobby, not a career) so I only write when I can find time to sit myself down and I'm motivated. 
> 
> That being said, I have ideas for this fanfiction ~( ^-^)~ So... Uh... Rip.
> 
> Baii

**Author's Note:**

> *whispers* Fear not. I suspect Marco will return *fades into darkness*


End file.
